


make you lose control

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Challenge: random_bandom, F/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She raised an eyebrow.  "Willing to bet on it?"  Vicky already knew the answer, because Gabe couldn't resist a stupid bet to save his life.  And this one was like shooting fish in a barrel; she'd <i>seen</i> Frank's tells.  The way he stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, the shift of his weight to his heels when someone stood too close, the angle of his jaw when someone looked him over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make you lose control

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ challenge random_bandom
> 
> Warning for D/S elements, spanking, kink negotiation, slapping, hitting and pinching.
> 
> Thanks to Luce, Ande and Spuffy for beta work and look overs.
> 
> Title from _Good Girls Go Bad_ by Cobra Starship

It was Vicky's turn to babysit Gabe, keep him occupied and out of trouble until soundcheck. The tour management had been so very unamused by Gabe's antics and the label refused to bail him out of jail again. She and the band were doing the best they could to distract Gabe, because the suits were pissed. Pete had flown out to walk around the venue and talk in hushed whispers to Gabe. It was serious.

So they were stuck on the bus and they were bored. 

Their bus had the world's rattiest couch in the lounge and they sprawled across it, Vicky shoved into the corner to accommodate Gabe's unreasonably lanky body. His head was cradled in her lap and she combed her fingers through his curly hair, petting him.

They'd played Truth or Dare for a while, but Gabe called it a draw because Vicky refused to be either shocked or amused by his Truths. (She knew better than to take his Dares. That's how Ryland had ended up with that weird shaped scar on his arm.) They switched over to Marry, Fuck, or Kill, but it was only mildly entertaining because again, Vicky made a point of not being surprised by any of Gabe's choices. 

"How about Sub, Dom, or Switch?"

Vicky sighed, a sound that she tried to infuse with all the ennui in the universe. "Fine."

"Disashi, Travie, and Matt."

That one was easy. "Dom, switch, sub."

"Skiba, Dan, and Derek."

A little harder, but still. "Dom, sub, switch."

Gabe peered at her. "Yeah?"

He was such an idiot. "Yeah."

"Okay," he shrugged. "Greta, Hayley, and LynZ."

"Switch, sub, dom." She had a crush on LynZ, her pale skin, dark hair, bright red lipstick. Vicky had always wanted to find out what LynZ was wearing under those short, short skirts. . .

"Beckett, Carden, Siska?" Gabe's voice pulled her out of her reverie.

She examined her nails. "Switch, dom, sub."

"Spencer, Brendon, Ryan?"

"Dom, sub, switch."

"Gerard, Mikeyway, Frank."

"Switch, dom, sub." 

"I call shenanigans, Vicky-T." He looked up at her, brown eyes curious. "There is no way that Frank Iero would sub for anyone. That dude is totally hardcore."

"Gabe, Gabe, Gabe." She shook her head. "You're so stuck on appearances—"

"I can't help it if I'm shallow." He grinned at her. "But that still doesn't make Iero subby."

She raised an eyebrow. "Willing to bet on it?" Vicky already knew the answer, because Gabe couldn't resist a stupid bet to save his life. And this one was like shooting fish in a barrel; she'd _seen_ Frank's tells. The way he stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, the shift of his weight to his heels when someone stood too close, the angle of his jaw when someone looked him over.

Gabe took the bait, of course he did. "What're the stakes, Vicky-T?" He rubbed his hands together and tried for an evil chuckle. She just rolled her eyes at him. She loved Gabe like a brother, but God, he was ridiculous.

She had to be careful about what she wished for, though, because Gabe could be a twisty fucker. If she made him do her laundry, he'd ruin all of her nice clothes. If she demanded breakfast in bed he'd wake her at four in the morning. 

The main problem was that he was almost impossible to embarrass. He had no shame. So it couldn't be about Gabe; it was going to be about her and—oh. She grinned and Gabe shifted in her lap a little nervously. "If I win, I want you to dress in drag for the next week of shows. Seven days. The whole deal, Gabe: dress, boobs, makeup. None of your half-assed, deliberately ugly attempts, either."

Gabe tilted his head and closed his eyes in thought, "Sure, why not, baby. I'm not gonna lose, so—" He shrugged, bony and awkward. "And if I win—"

Vicky waited patiently. He wanted her to squirm, but she wasn't going to lose, so she wasn't worried about the stakes.

"—if I win, you'll wear a French maid costume and call me 'sir' for a week."

"Way to be degrading, Gabe." She tapped her finger against her lip, pretending to think about it. Under other circumstances, she'd be dumping Gabe out of her lap and calling him an idiot. But she had this, so she could afford to be nice to him, for once. "Okay."

He grinned at her. "Okay, Vicky-T. Shake on it." He held his fist up so she could bump it with hers.

He was utterly absurd and she loved his stupid face.

* * *

Vicky spent some time debating what to wear. Normally, she'd go for the total domme look, short short dress, tall boots and a sneer. But she had a feeling that Frank wasn't into the outward trappings of the scene as much as some, so she stuck with comfortable jeans, bare feet and a old plaid shirt she'd stolen from Gabe a while ago.

They sat on the couch, waiting, Gabe fidgeting because he was incapable of sitting still for any length of time. She smacked his leg. "Stop it. You're worse than a kid."

"I just can't wait for Iero to smack you down, is all. Plus—" he waggled his eyebrows at her, "—I'm _so_ looking forward to you in the maid's outfit."

"Fucker," she said. There was a loud knock on their door. "Come in," she yelled, as Gabe arranged himself artfully across the couch. She stuck out her feet and wiggled her toes a little, trying to ignore the excitement that was starting to coil in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't had a chance to play for a while. . .

Frank bounded up the stairs and came into the lounge. "Hey, what's up?" His movements were jittery, like his body couldn't contain the energy that he generated. She had to wonder when the last time was that someone made him let go and relax.

Vicky pushed Gabe's legs off of her lap and stood up slowly. Frank just watched, eyebrow raised, as she walked closer, circling him, looking him over from his ball cap to his battered Chucks. She had a thing for tattoos, and the ink that decorated him, peeking out from the edges of his clothing, was beautiful. She wanted to see more.

Reaching out, Vicky _almost_ touched his arm, but let her hand drift upwards, so close to his skin that she could feel his warmth, but not actually making contact. She stopped directly in front of him after a final circuit. He tilted his head back a little to meet her eyes. "You're very pretty," she murmured. "You want to play?"

His mouth quirked upwards.

"Thought so." She touched her thumb to his bottom lip. "On your knees."

He shifted a little and clasped his hands behind him, outwardly the perfect little sub. But he lifted his chin in a dare.

"Brat," she whispered. "On your knees or you can leave."

He dropped instantly, thumping hard onto the carpeted floor. The thrumming energy that usually surrounded Frank was abruptly gone, like a switch had been flipped.

"Good boy." She pulled his hat off and set it on a shelf, running her hand over his soft hair, smoothing it down. Vicky turned back to Gabe, who sat on the couch, mouth hanging open in utter shock. "Go find Ryland. He's expecting you." When Gabe didn't move, she put a touch of command in her voice. "Go." He scrambled to his feet and went, letting the door slam behind him.

Vicky smiled down at Frank. "Tell me what you need. What you want."

* * *

"I like being topped, hard. Pushed, shoved, slapped. Tied up and held down. Spanked—" His voice wavered a little on the word and Vicky filed that information away. "Pain is okay, I can take a lot, but I like being touched and talked to. No gags, no permanent marks, nothing damaging."

She touched his mouth with her thumb. "You like being able to talk."

He nodded.

"You want me to make you beg?"

Frank inhaled sharply. "Yeah."

She touched his hair again, amazed at how silky it felt. He leaned into the touch like a cat. "How far do you want to go?"

Closing his eyes, he gave it some thought. "Sex is nice, but it isn't what I _need_ right now." He shrugged and met her eyes. "Can we play it by ear?"

"Sure, baby. I just wanted to know if it was off the table or not." She could feel herself responding to him, nipples pulling tight, the wetness growing between her legs. "What's your safeword?"

Grinning sheepishly, he said, "Pansy."

"Your old guitar." At his raised eyebrow, she shook her head. "I don't live under a rock." Googling Frank got you tattoos, his guitar Pansy, and how ridiculously young he's looked for _years_.

"Didn't think you did."

"Say your safeword for me again." She didn't want to make any mistakes.

"Pansy."

It was kinda sweet, really.

She slapped him, the sound loud and shocking, an afterimage of her hand appearing on his cheek. "Ma'am."

Frank just looked at her, so she slapped him again, a little harder.

"Ma'am," he conceded.

"Better. I can tell you want to be a good boy, Frank, but you just can't help yourself, can you?" She lifted her leg up and planted her foot in the middle of his chest, pressing him down. She'd seen him like this on stage, flat on the floor with his legs under him, playing his guitar and lost in the music. "Keep your hands clasped behind your back." She pushed until his head touched the floor, his hands trapped under him, a flat-to-the-floor backbend. Vicky knew she couldn't keep him like this for a long time, but she could have a little fun with him.

She stood over him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under her foot. His face was a little red with exertion. "Yeah, you can't help yourself, can you?" When he just kept looking at her, she moved her foot down to his crotch and used her bare heel to prod at him. "Answer me when I speak to you, Frank."

He was hard under her foot and she wanted to smile, but didn't want to encourage him in the wrong ways. He bit his lip and she shifted, bearing down. "Yes, ma'am," he finally replied, gasping. "It's like there's a bad part of me that takes over, when I wanna be good."

"Hmmmm." She sat on him, letting some of her weight rest against his stomach, trapping him. "Maybe I'll just put you in the corner until you learn how to behave."

Frank shuddered under her. "No, ma'am, please."

"No?" She laughed. "You don't get to say 'no' anymore." She pushed his shirt up as far as she could, flipping it over to cover his face, an impromptu blindfold. "Oh! How pretty," she said, looking at all the tattoos that covered his chest. She traced over the ink with a finger, following the curves. She wanted to taste his skin, to see if the tattoos tasted any different, but this wasn't the time for that. Maybe later.

Frank wasn't skinny like Gabe, all bone and sinew; he had a layer of flesh that she could pinch between her fingers and twist, making him pant and squirm under her. She left behind red marks that faded too quickly, and the sounds Frank made were delicious. Vicky wanted _more_.

Leaning back, she made quick work of thumbing the button on his jeans open. She could feel his cock under her hand as she pulled the zipper down but took care not to touch even as he pushed up a little in search of friction. She slapped his side, quick and hard. "No. You don't get to rub yourself off until I say you can. Understand me?"

He inhaled and nodded under the thin material of the shirt.

"I can't hear you," she said, grabbing at the hair that grew low on his belly and pulling.

Inhaling sharply, he said, "Sorry, ma'am, I'm sorry—I understand, ma'am." Vicky wasn't sure if it was the pain or the words that was turning him on so much, but with his jeans partly open, she could see how much he was enjoying this. 

She twitched the shirt off of his face and waited for him to open his eyes and look at her. He raised his chin up in clear challenge.

"You really are a bad boy," she murmured. She let the rest of her weight drop down, pinning him completely, arms stuck under the small of his back. "You think you can manipulate me with your petty little defiances." She _tsked_ at him. "I've been playing this game for a long time, Frank. . ."

She scratched him, ran her nails hard across his belly, above his sparrows. It wouldn't do to ruin such lovely art with the streaks she left behind, slowly turning from white to pink to red. She did it again, hearing the catch in Frank's breathing. "Say 'thank you.'"

He bit his lip and shook his head. 

"Oh?" She smacked his ribs again. "Didn't your mom raise you to be polite? To say 'thank you' and 'please'?"

"Yeah, she did." The expression on his face made it clear that he thought Vicky didn't deserve that politeness.

Vicky shook her head sadly. "Frank, you're disappointing me." Before he had a chance to react, she moved off of him and pushed him over, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of his head to keep him under control. Frank struggled, trying to pull away, but she had a good grip on him, holding tight. He was strong; he kept trying to lever himself up on his arms and knock her off. Vicky worried that he was going to lose a handful of silky hair if he didn't stop, so she put her back into it and pushed his face down onto the carpet.

"Ow, fuck, ow, ow—"

"Shut up," she hissed. She was obviously being too careful with Frank; he needed a firmer hand. Looking around, she spotted Gabe's hairbrush on a shelf, the really expensive one with the special bristles. Vicky had used it a couple of times and yeah, it had made her hair look nice, but what had intrigued her the most was the weight and heft of it. It'd fit her hand perfectly.

Gabe would kill her for using his fancy brush as a paddle, but really, if she damaged it, she'd buy him a new one. And it was close enough for her to reach it without letting Frank up. Perfect. "Such a bad boy," she cooed, grinding his cheek into the musty carpeting. "I'm just going to have to teach you how to behave yourself."

"No, ma'am, I'll stop, I promise, ma'am, please—"

"Too late," she whispered in his ear, giving the lobe a nip. "You should be glad I don't have any of my toys here with me. I'd really make you regret your behavior."

He bucked against the floor, trying to break free of her grip.

"I'm just going to have to improvise, but I'm very good at that," she soothed.

The softest whimper escaped from him and when she looked, his eyes were clenched tightly shut. 

Vicky brushed a kiss against his temple. "So pretty." She put her knee against the small of his back to keep him pinned and leaned to get the brush, setting it where he could easily see it.

Frank squirmed and she shifted her weight to keep him down, crushing him against the floor. "I have this collar and leash," she told him dreamily, "that would look gorgeous on you. White fake-leather with black stitching; no animals harmed in the making of it. Take you out for walks, show everyone who you belonged to. . ." She pushed his jeans and boxers out of the way, making a pleased little sound. She'd been worried about how flat his ass had looked in the baggy jeans; he needed to have some padding to take a good spanking. And he did.

Picking up the brush, she gave him an experimental smack, trying to gauge how hard she could hit, how hard she _should_ hit. He said he could take a lot of pain, but that wasn't the point. She hit him again, a little harder, and the sound echoed loudly in the lounge. There were two perfect red oval-shapes on his ass from the brush. 

Flipping the brush over, she lightly ran the bristles across his ass, surprised when Frank cried out and bucked under her. "Feel good, baby?"

"Fu—fuck," Frank stuttered. "Motherfuck, that's—"

Vicky didn't wait for him to finish, just started spanking him in earnest, alternating sides until both cheeks were rosy and tender. When she thought he settled too comfortably into the pain, she used the bristles to wake him back up, listening to his breathing grow ragged and clogged. He was panting, a whine threading through every sound he made as he writhed under her weight.

She stopped and touched his ear with her lips. "You ready to behave yourself for me, Frank?"

He moaned and nodded, his face wet with sweat and tears. "Yes, ma'am, please, I'm sorry, I promise I'll be good, I swear, so good for you, ma'am—"

"On your hands and knees," she said, letting him up. His arms were shaking; he wasn't going to last much longer. "Good boy," she sighed. She reached out and cupped his cock, feeling how hard and hot he was. "You ready to come for me, Frank?"

He made a sound, half groan, half whimper and nodded, licking his lips. 

"I'm going to paddle you until you think you're going to scream, and then you're going to come for me. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, breathless.

"You _are_ learning," she said. "I'm proud of you." And she was. In spite of his brattiness, he suffered perfectly for her.

Vicky went back to spanking him, switching from a steady rhythm to something a little more erratic to keep him from relaxing into it. He let his head hang down between his arms and he shuddered with each strike. When he was gasping desperately for air and crying out with each hit, she stopped and grasped his cock, stroking him steadily. "Come for me, Frank."

His back arched and he pushed forward, whimpering as he came in her hand and on the carpet. His arms gave way and he collapsed onto the floor, shivering in reaction. 

"Good boy," she crooned, brushing his hair back off his face with her fingers. "So good for me." She petted him for a few minutes before getting up to get a warm washcloth from the bathroom, wiping the sweat and come away. "Can you stand for me?"

He nodded, eyes still closed. He seemed to have lost his words.

She got him to his feet, helping him step out of his jeans and underwear, pulling his shirt over his head. Vicky led him to her bunk and made him put on a pair of spare sweats before coaxing him to slide into her bunk. She quickly undressed and joined him, pulling him close and cuddling him, kissing him softly. He tasted sweet.

"So good," she murmured. 

He smiled and drifted off to sleep.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] make you lose control](https://archiveofourown.org/works/383642) by [Andeincascade (Ande)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/pseuds/Andeincascade)




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